


you had me at AHHHH

by raeldaza



Series: symbi-ohno-sis [1]
Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, I check off a lot of rom-com boxes in this one, M/M, Oblivious, Romantic Comedy, Sharing a Bed, coffee shop AU for about one paragraph, featuring:, romantic shenanigans!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-01 16:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16768702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raeldaza/pseuds/raeldaza
Summary: “I am also just a symbiote—”“Oh God.”“—Floating in front of a boy, asking him to love him.”It’s a rom-com. Alien-symbiote style.





	you had me at AHHHH

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun. 
> 
> I'm findable over [here](http://raeldaza.tumblr.com/post/180608330484/you-had-me-at-ahhhh-raeldaza-venom-movie)!

“Mr. Brock, let me be frank with you.” She crosses her legs and entwines her fingers over her knee, and a sinking feeling grows in Eddie’s stomach.

**_Is something wrong?_ **

He shakes his head at Venom mentally, and smiles, a little pained, as the woman continues.

“You’re not fully qualified for this position.”

 ** _Not fully qualified?_** Venom barks out in his head. Eddie knows he flinched by the sudden waver in the woman’s expression. **_You hit every bullet point on the ad!_**

“Ma’am,” Eddie says aloud. He shifts in his seat slightly. “With all due respect, I think I am overqualified. This is a reporting position for someone directly out of college.”

“Correct, Mr. Brock.” She smiles placidly, sadly, and really, Eddie should just cut his losses now. “But it’s for a reporting position on _sports,_ which you have never done. Most college applicants covered the sports section in their undergraduate careers.”

“I have years of experience in the field, ma’am.”

“But none in this _particular_ field.”

**_Do you wish to eat her?_ **

“What would you do, say if—”

**_She’s condescending. We hate condescending._ **

“—A football player started talking about yards and fields and tackles?”

**_We ate that one boy for being rude to Mr. Muffet._ **

_Mr. Muftain._ Eddie internally corrects.

“Do you know what a field goal is?”

**_Whatever._ **

“Or if a baseball player talked about the unfair call on a balk?”

**_We hate her._ **

“Or a hockey—”

**_The last thing we ate was a fish, we hate fish—_ **

“If I may interrupt,” Eddie interrupts both, loudly. The woman closes her mouth with a short, surprised snap, then nods in his direction, still placid.

“What I lack in experience, I make up for in zest.”

She stares at Eddie.

He’s just now realizing that almost the entirety of the front of his white-button down is drenched in sweat, the top of his hair looks wet, he’s been clutching the side of the chair so hard that he actually tore the fabric a little, he’s been shifting in his seat like he’s had three energy drinks, and, when internally arguing, he had been staring extremely hard and without moving his eyeballs at the window directly behind the woman’s head.

“Well.” She gives him smile that just screams _If you lean towards me even a goddamn centimeter, I am calling security._ "I will let you know by the end of the day.”

She knew by the start of the interview.

He probably did too.

“Thanks for the opportunity,” he says anyway.

 ** _Can we eat her?_** Venom suggests again, far too eager.

 _No,_ he think-yells.

**_But—_ **

“We’re not eating her!”

Given the way her hand pauses on the doorknob, that one was out loud.

He should invest in a Bluetooth earpiece for plausible deniability. Very soon.

* * *

“V,” he says, the moment they hit the sidewalk. It’s brisk out, enough that he finds himself curling his shoulders forward and huddling inside himself, “maybe we need to lower our standards.”

**_They don’t deserve you._ **

Venom swirls up to his shoulder area, dissolving past his first layer of clothes, but still under his suit. It’s an instant warmth, like an extra layer, like a heater, like a hug, and Eddie finds himself smiling and folding into it like a child.

“Thought I was a loser.”

**_You are._ **

Eddie rolls his eyes, hard.

A woman passing him gives him a weird look – and really, he should move back to New York. There, even if Venom manifested out of his shoulder and started doing the macarena, he could just imagine the people on the subway in New York looking up, shrugging, and indifferently going back to their phone, like _same shit as always._

“Well, we have to make rent, especially if our food budget is staying up. We’ll get a stupid job in the meantime.”

**_We could lower the food budget if you let us—_ **

“No,” Eddie shuts down firmly.

* * *

“First, you need to steam the milk. Heat the 1 cup of milk in a 2-quart—” The girl is probably over a decade younger than him. Probably two, if Eddie is being realistic and not compassionate to himself. Her hair is sticking out the back of her hat in a ponytail, and he finds himself staring at it, wondering how she got it through the hole, when she pokes him in the arm, hard. “Did you get that, Eddie?”

“Uhm.” There’s like six machines in front of him, all with about seventeen handles and levers, there’s a line five people long, there’s four types of milk, and a menu of about 40 items. He’s about to swallow his pride and ask her to repeat that again, slower, when Venom pops up in his head.

**_I listened Eddie. I understand._ **

“Oh, uh, we got it.”

She gives him a funny look, and he internally winces at himself for the pesky pronoun problem again.

“Okay, how about you ring this next order up, then?”

He nervously smooths down his green apron and adjusts his little nametag. There’s a little Santa hat next to the E, and he officially sort of hates his life as he steps towards the cash register.

“Hi, may I take your order?”

* * *

“I think,” Eddie starts, and then immediately stops, brushing some milk off his forehead. He can still vaguely hear the screaming. Although Venom already healed the burn wounds, that feeling of him sucking himself back into Eddie’s body lingers in his fingers. “I think,” he says again, “maybe I need to get a job where I don’t have to be there in person.”

He can feel Venom tentatively poking his way back out of his subconscious, where he hid when Eddie started yelling and slamming him up against the cash register.

He’s starting to feel a little guilty about that.

**_Like an astronaut?_ **

“I was thinking more of an internet columnist. You think too highly of me, dear.”

**_Impossible._ **

Eddie smiles to himself, ducking his chin to his chest, charmed despite himself.

It ends a little abruptly by being pulled down an alley way with a surprised screech when Venom saw a cat he thought they could eat — nothing with fur, you freak — but he still feels slightly warm the rest of the night.

* * *

“Do you have any idea the amount of qualifications they require for Buzzfeed?” Eddie asks the air, a little stunned.

Venom pulls out of him, and floats beside his head. He looks thoughtful, if he could look thoughtful. Eddie thinks he’s getting better at deciphering the differences between eye shapes.

 ** _Qualifications?_** Venom repeats. **_There’s something other than no shame?_**

* * *

“We’re glad to have you abroad, Mr. Brock,” Eddie reads aloud. Venom has manifested in a little floating head beside him, also reading the screen. “Your pseudonym will be ‘Mr. Love,’ unless you have any objections.”

He lets his head fall into his hand, and groans.

“Oh, how the average have fallen,” he mutters to himself, before tapping out an acceptance email.

 ** _What will you be doing?_** Venom asks. He looks over at Eddie, big eyes blinking, before reaching his head down at stealing another Cheeto from the bowl.

“You can make hands,” Eddie points out. “You don’t have to make it a game of dunking-for-processed-fats every time you want to eat one.”

**_You judge me a lot for a man who didn’t want to sit up to drink his Pepsi and tried to grab the can with his mouth._ **

“It’s an advice column.” Eddie decides to answer the original question instead of taking that particular bait. “For a young girl’s fashion magazine. Basically, they write in with their romance problems and I answer from a man’s perspective.”

 ** _Romance problems?_** Venom repeats. **_I don’t know this concept, romance._**

Eddie blinks.

“Romance, you know?” He settles back down into the couch, gesticulating, while Venom floats up from his shoulder. It’s a face-to-face conversation, in a way. “Flowers, chocolates, dates, rings, sappy songs, love?”

**_I want your love and I want your revenge. You and me could write a bad romance._ **

“Oh God, don’t sing,” Eddie groans, massaging his temple. “No, not – I mean, that’s the word, but the concept is bigger.”

**_How?_ **

“Well.” He stops. He’s going to need to be getting himself in the frame of mind for this job anyway, why not put on a few romance movies for both their edification?

Can’t hurt anything, right?

* * *

The sixth time Venom pops out of his shoulder, making him drop whatever snack he was holding, just to say, **_Hey, it’s you!_** when a reporter comes on screen, Eddie really starts to wonder the data on career fields in romantic comedies.

“I’m not even a reporter anymore, Venom,” Eddie grumbles.

**_Then what do I call people in your profession?_ **

“Idiots.”

* * *

**_I don’t understand,_** Venom says, three nights into the binge.

“Understand what?” Eddie says. Or tries to say, though his mouth is so full of chocolate that he thinks it ends up more vowels than words.

**_These two were already together._ **

Eddie frowns. Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal are sitting on a couch, talking about their wedding.

“No, they weren’t. They were friends for most of the movie.”

 ** _Explain the difference,_** Venom commands, or tries to command, though Eddie is a little bit past being intimidated by him. It’s hard to keep the fear when he saw Venom almost accidentally flush himself down the toilet.

“Romantic love is different than friendship love. It’s more – serious, I guess. It’s a partnership, a lifetime thing. A sexual thing. A more all-encompassing thing. It’s permanent.”

 ** _Friendship isn’t permanent?_** There’s an odd lilt to that thought.

“Doesn’t have to be.”

**_Hm._ **

Venom curls up like a cat next to him for the rest of the movie, letting Eddie pet his strangely smooth head, and Eddie forgets all about it, letting himself fall into the romantic-comedy-la-la-land, just like he intended.

* * *

Here’s the thing: the column wasn’t supposed to get popular.

It’s a wonder he got the job in the first place, honestly. Anne was the one to ask him out after he steadfastly looked past her for three weeks, he prefers women in pajamas to lingerie because he gets uneasy when they look uncomfortable, and the last time he felt the stirring of butterflies in his stomach was when his alien pile of black goo told him he looked handsome in a jacket – he’s clearly qualified to tell young, impressionable girls what to do to get a guy’s attention, clearly. 

But he is.

Popular, that is.

His column was originally only in the print version, but after the email address for writing in received over 200 letters in a week, they opened it up to their website. _Mr. Love_ has an entire tab on the front page. How about that.

He’s honestly not sure what he’s doing right. He always feels like an imposter when writing the responses – they’re very rarely anything he truly believes (though, to be fair, nothing he truly believes has ever really worked out in his romantic favor, historically). His go-to method for the replies is to watch a Nicholas Sparks movie, and then pretend to be the male lead whenever answering the questions. He’s running out of movies, but apparently the girls like it, so. Maybe he’ll move on to really bad erotica soon. Sparks is basically just emotional porn, right?

**_Answer the next one, Eddie._ **

Venom has taken to picking out the letters that should get replies. Eddie’s not entirely sure how he picks – he’s thinking it may be based on the subject line – but honestly, he doesn’t need to know or care enough to ask.

Absentmindedly, he clicks on the one Venom pointed to with his black goo appendage, one with the subject line – “Does my partner love me?”

Eddie pulls the laptop a little closer to his eyes, and begins to read.

> _Mr. Love,_
> 
> _I have a partner who I share everything with like thoughts and feelings and meals and hobbies and vacations_

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters, “heard of a comma?” 

> _and friends and everything and yet we aren’t anything more like the romance love. What do I do to get it?_
> 
> _Signed,_
> 
> _In-romantic-love_

“This one, V?” He throws a pretzel up in the air, and Venom catches it with his tongue, not moving his floating head. “You sure? Isn’t it a little – obvious?”

 ** _Obvious?_** Venom repeats. **_How so?_**

“Well, all—” He squints at the page. “In-romantic-love has to do is tell the partner they want more. Sounds like a pretty solid foundation. There’s not much else to it.”

**_But the person could say no, and then sharing everything could get weird._ **

Eddie frowns at the computer.

“I guess.”

**_What would you suggest this person do, then?_ **

Eddie shrugs, and begins typing back. He’s a lot slower than he used to be – Venom is constantly in and out of his thoughts, and it makes concentrating harder. “I guess to try out some romantic chiz, and see how the person responds. Like, if you buy them a flower or chocolates, and they react all weird, then you know without knowing, right?”

**_You’re smart, Eddie._ **

“Learned it all from TV, V,” Eddie responds without really thinking, tongue between his teeth.

* * *

**_Eddie!_ **

Eddie stops, dead-halt, in the middle of the grocery store aisle.

“What?”

**_Back up three steps._ **

He does, backing into an old woman with a walker who squawks at him loudly, leading to a bruised shin bone and a dirty look from the college-aged stoner buying potato chips.

“Find that funny?” he mutters, watching the lady shuffle towards the bread aisle.

 ** _Tremendously,_** is the overly-amused answer.

Eddie shakes his head, verging on truly irritated, and makes an idle threat to return the pizza rolls in the cart.

It’s only when they get home, the grocery bags sagging all over the countertop, when the real reasoning for returning to the aisle makes itself apparent.

“Where did these come from?” Eddie asks, lifting up the box of Lindt chocolates in a heart shaped box.

 ** _I got them for you,_** Venom answers proudly. He curls around Eddie’s hand, and pulls the chocolates close to their face. **_Look – caramel. You like that._**

“Yes, Venom, I do,” Eddie says irritably. “Give me my hand back.”

Venom softly uncurls around his hand, dissolving into the skin.

“Did you steal these?”

**_I took them from the shelf and hid them in our body._ **

Eddie immediately decides not to worry about the connotations of “in” right now.

“Why would you do that?” He sighs, and rubs his forehead. “Now I’m gonna feel guilty about not paying for them.”

 ** _They’re for you,_** Venom says again. He sounds confused, now, which isn’t good, because ‘confused’ is often half a step away from ‘confused and homicidal’ because Venom _hates_ feeling like Eddie is superior. Or that Eddie looks down on him. Eddie isn’t sure which.

“Thanks, but next time, just tell me if you want chocolate, okay?” Eddie opens up the lid. They do look good – gooey, though, which he’s going to assume has nothing to do with Venom’s goo. “I’ll buy them for you.”

 ** _For you,_** Venom corrects, but Eddie is no longer listening.

* * *

“What on—”

Venom has just started folding back inside him, and there apparently was something stuck inside his – his pockets? His goo? His body?

Eddie reaches for it and pulls, and it comes out with some resistance, holding to Venom a little bit stronger than is good for its structural integrity.

**_Eddie._ **

Eddie ignores him, and looks closer. It looks to be some type of weed – flower, maybe – but it’s definitely broken, just some stems.

Eddie looks around them, at the water surrounding them on either side, at the lighthouse above their heads, and wonders how a giant question mark isn’t hovering above him.

“What is that? Did we—did we go to any fields, recently?”

**_No._ **

“We didn’t hunt in any flower shops or anything, right?”

**_It is not important, Eddie. We probably picked it up on accident._ **

“But you’re not sticky,” Eddie utters in wondered confusion. “We’d be grabbing all types of shit if you were, like dirt and bugs and trash and—hey!” He shrieks.

Venom apparently got sick of waiting, because he took over their body again, and plunged them back into the ocean.

Venom goes after a shark and Eddie is halfway between hopelessly impressed and unfathomably sick to his stomach.

* * *

One day the next week, Eddie wakes to the kitchen being suspiciously clean and about half of the contents of his fridge being gone. He decides not to ask, and Venom is suspiciously quiet the entire morning. 

* * *

He gets another letter from _In-romantic-love._

> _Mr. Love,_
> 
> _I tried, your idea, but it didn’t help, since he is an, oblivious toad._

“Commas,” he mutters to himself. He doesn’t remember writing her about them in his response, but he must’ve. 

> _Other ideas?_

“Hey, Venom,” Eddie asks.

Quiet.

“Venom?”

A stirring.

“Get out here, you parasite.”

 ** _Apologize_** comes the immediate answer, and Eddie finds himself smiling, almost unbearably fond.

“Hey – do you remember any of those comedies that had friends who got together?” He frowns. “Other than _When Harry Met Sally._ Most of them aren’t like that.”

Venom stays fairly quiet, before hissing, **_I don’t know any._**

“Whoa, calm down there, it was just a question. What has you all crabby?”

He’s about to make some stupid joke, like _eat a lobster, lately?,_ when Venom responds back, all snippy,

**_I haven’t been resting well. I stayed up all night watching something called The Bachelor and frankly, I’m not convinced the Earth was worth saving anymore._ **

“Why would you watch that?” Eddie asks, baffled.

Venom is saved from responding by a knock on the door.

* * *

“Destination wedding?” Eddie repeats, and hope his voice remains flat and emotionless.

He’s really far too aware that he’s wearing sweatpants covered in potato chip crumbs.

“His aunt rents a really beautiful house up-state, by Niagara. I know it's fast, but she only has the house for a few more weeks, and you should remember that I wasn’t much of a wedding person anyway.” Anne shrugs, smile a little pained, just on the edge of unbearably uncomfortable, and Eddie is transported back to the three or forty-two arguments they had about the venue. God, they hadn’t even chosen one before _it_ happened.

Venom senses the direction of his thoughts and straightens his spine, whispering, **_Mine_** , into his head, and if he had one, Eddie would step on his foot.

“Okay.” A pause. “Meaning?”

“Meaning the wedding is this week and…and if you’d like to, I’d like you to be there.”

“Does Dan want me there?”

Anne really is far too kind, she always was. “He’s the one who asked. Said it might be – might be closure, or something.” She bites her lip. “You don’t have to.”

“No, no, I’d like to, I’d like to.”

“Great,” Anne says, with feeling, and Eddie can feel that little piece of his heart that was always labeled for her melt, a little. He wonders if that’ll ever stop. “Great. So, I can put you down as coming?”

“Sure, sure,” he says, shuffling his feet. They still don’t have a doormat, great, what a lovely time to notice that.

“You and—” she falters. “You and just yourself, or you—” she stumbles again, looking down at her feet. She shakes her head a little, enough that he knows she’s berating herself in her own head. She then looks up with a plastic smile. “Just you, then?”

Eddie can put two and two together, and in this case, four is that Anne thinks he’s still too unstable to hold a steady partner.

Which isn’t – strictly speaking – even true, which is what he blames on what comes out of his mouth next.

“Go ahead and reserve a second seat for me – I’m not sure if my partner can make it, but you know, better safe than sorry.”

Anne is taken aback, that’s for sure, and he can sense Venom becoming uneasy inside.

“Oh.” She looks like it takes a second to digest that, like bad salmon, but then she brightens considerably. “I’m happy to hear you found someone. What’s her name?”

Despite his previous job, Eddie’s never been that good at lying under pressure.

“V.”

“V?” Anne looks dubious. “Is that short for—“

“Ven—ice,” he blurts. “Venice.” He immediately shuts his eyes in mortification.

Vanessa. Veronica. Victoria. For God’s sake, Victor, Vance, Vernon.

**_Is that a human name I have not yet encountered?_ **

He can just _hear_ the sarcasm oozing.

 _Shut up,_ he thinks, really loudly.

“She’s Italian,” he says to Anne, then nods slightly manically, turns, and shuts the door in her face.

* * *

The wedding invite pops into his inbox just as he’s about to send a response to _in-romantic-love,_ suggesting she write an anonymous love letter.

 ** _What movie is that the one from?_** Venom asks.

“What _isn’t_ it from?” Eddie counters, clicking on the e-vite.

Great, he has to pay for a hotel in New York, near Niagara, to watch his ex marry someone else, while he pretends to be in love with a non-existent girlfriend.

He should probably pretend to have a different job, too.

**_Are we going to wear a tuxedo?_ **

Eddie groans.

* * *

“There’s only one bed,” Eddie says, blinking.

Anne looks at him like he finally took that final step off the Cliffs of Insanity.

“What were you expecting?”

“Didn’t I tell you my girl might be coming?”

Anne’s expression doesn’t change.

“You want to sleep in a separate bed from your girlfriend?”

Venom is laughing in his head, loudly, and he thinks he goes through the seven stages of grief before he’s able to get a grip on himself enough to thank Anne for meeting him there.

* * *

He goes back and forth with himself about attending the rehearsal dinner. On one hand – it’s polite to show up, and if he doesn’t, Anne might worry that he’s off somewhere eating someone. Or worse, wonder about his emotional state. On the other hand – he’d have to sit through hours of bland conversation, mediocre food, and painful speeches about the undying love between his first real love and her new guy who only knows Eddie as that dude who almost ruined his career in a week.

He needs advice from an outside party. A party who’s intelligent, clever, and wise. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know anyone like that, and ends up asking Venom his opinion.

**_There will be lots of people there._ **

“Are you saying that as a good or bad thing?”

**_Lots of bad people._ **

“Nope, no eating Anne’s relatives.”

**_But—_ **

“This is New York, though,” Eddie says thoughtfully. “There’s always bad somewhere.”

He can feel Venom grin inside him. Eddie really doesn’t feel like going out and hunting tonight, though. In all honesty, he kind of wants to stay in bed and – and what? And cuddle, if he’s being honest. Watch a bad movie, dwell and mope in his unhappiness, and cuddle up to a warm pile of goo that loves him more than he loves his own world, for whatever reason.

**_Are you thinking what I’m thinking?_ **

“Oh God, I hope not,” Eddie blurts.

* * *

“You look nice,” Anne says kindly, considering this suit definitely was on the ‘cheap’ side of the spectrum _before_ he let Venom pack, and thus get it all wrinkly.

“Thanks,” he says instead of explaining. “You mothers can’t even _spell_ elegant.”

It’s the kind of joke that would have made her laugh when they were deeply in love, but now just makes her give apologetic glances to the other people around.

“Eddie,” she says, pointing him towards an older woman in the circle. “This is Dan’s mother.”

Wonderful impression he just made.

 ** _What did you expect?_** Venom asks, reasonably.

 _Nothing,_ Eddie answers in his head, honestly. _I expect little out of life anymore._

“Eddie, yes,” Dan’s mother greets him. “I heard of you. You gave my Dan quite a scare a while back, didn’t you?”

“That’s over now,” he says.

**_Is not._ **

“I am cured from that abomination.”

**_ARE NOT._ **

“I am so glad to be all by myself again and away from that mean—”

His foot ‘somehow’ loses its grip on gravity, and he finds himself falling over, into a tray of mimosas.

There’s only minor breakage and only a few tablespoons of blood, so all in all, it could have been worse.

“Well,” Dan’s mother says. She’d be great on a sit-com, as the bitchy mother-in-law to the male lead. “Things aren’t boring with you around, are they?”

“He’ll grow on you,” Anne says immediately, and both he and Venom simultaneously think **_We like her._** “He’s like the badly tempered cat everyone is weirdly fond of.”

Eddie has the sudden urge to shake his fist at the sky.

* * *

“Eddie!”

It’s been three entire hours, six entirely forgettable conversations, two conversations he’d really _like_ to forget, three drinks, and a pit-stop to a prison-yard to satiate Venom, and he’s finally seeing Anne again.

**_We like Anne._ **

_Shut up._

“Anne!” He turns in his chair with a probably-grotesque imitation of a smile. “How are you?”

“Fine, fine,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand. “Venice couldn’t make it? I was hoping to meet her.”

“Oh, right, right.” He takes his phone out of his pocket. Eat your heart out, Casey Broadway, the girl in high school who voted him _least likely to plan ahead_ in their entire class. “She couldn’t make it – work. But we’ve been texting all night.”

He hands Anne the phone, and true to word, there’s a long series of texts there under the contact “V.” Of course, unbeknownst to her, that’s just his series with Venom. They found out rather quickly that talking aloud scared people, and talking in his head was almost worse, with how he zoned out and focused on random shit, like people’s faces across from him. He bought Venom a phone, which he stores in his other pocket, that Venom can take out and text from underneath Eddie’s shirt when he wants to have a lengthy conversation in public.

He’s rather impressed with himself and his ingenuity when Anne’s breath catches.

“Why is there a picture of a dead body?”

He snatches the phone from her hand, and looks down and, yep – there is a picture of a headless corpse, with the caption, _Look what you made me do! Look what you made me do!_

_Fuck you._

**_Was I the one who gave her the phone?_ **

“Oh, yes – that was, V works as a small time reporter, that’s how we met, and then she got a gig covering a CSI episode, and she accidentally stumbled over a body on set, and she texted me a picture of it instead of going to the FBI, but then she used to work as a forensic pathologist, so she studied the blood, and realized it was cherry jello, and then texted me back a photo of it like a selfie because she thinks headless jokes are funny.”

Anne’s eyebrows are hitting her hairline. “That literally got weirder with every word.”

“Well, that’s you know. Why.”

**_Was that the child-beater?_ **

_Yes, the one you insisted would have tasted better with soy sauce._

**_He would have._ **

Anne looks like she’s considering it, before saying, “I don’t believe you.”

“No?” Eddie says with relief. “Good.”

A text pings.

He looks down.

**_Smooth as a cactus._ **

He sticks his hand in the candle centerpiece in retaliation.

He thinks Anne might be getting a bit of a clue.

* * *

The actual wedding itself is fairly painless. Music is played, vows are said, aisles are walked, it’s all very sweet and thankfully over within thirty minutes.

The reception is a little more painful, made more acute by the nameplate _Venice_ in the seat next to his.

“Is she supposed to be with you?” the woman in the chair over asks. “Do you know if she’s coming? Her seat has a better view of the stage.”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie mumbles, waving at it. “Feel free. She was supposed to come but got – caught up in something else.”

The woman looks at him, sympathetically, before patting his hand.

“You sound like you miss her.”

“I wish she was always with me,” he says sincerely, and he can feel Venom purr in his chest. “It’s always better when she’s there. I wouldn’t – I mean, I get angry, sometimes. But I’d never wish her away. I hope she knows that.”

**_He does. You’re mine. And I’m yours._ **

“That’s awfully sweet, dear,” the woman says. “Try to keep that attitude when she refuses to take the trash out for the sixteenth time.”

**_He is the trash._ **

Eddie coughs into his drink.

* * *

“Texting Venice?” Dan asks.

Eddie slips his phone into his pocket.

“Yep,” he answers, not even a lie. They were discussing the relative benefits of eating tonight versus tomorrow morning. Eating meaning hunting, not eating meaning raid the hotel store, like Eddie prefers.

“I’m glad you found someone.”

A hand sneaks around Eddie’s, holding it, intertwining their fingers. He recognizes the feel of it, the warmth, and he looks around slightly to see if anyone notices – they don’t, their hands are hidden under the table, and Eddie suddenly feels a pang of longing – this isn’t something Venom’s done before. It’s probably to help Eddie feel more _into_ the charade, give him something to feed off of. An act.

“I am too,” Eddie responds, a touch too late. He squeezes, and the ‘hand’ squeezes back. “I love V,” he says honestly. “Wish she could be sitting here next to me.”

Dan pats his shoulder and says something kind, but all he can hear is Venom’s quiet, **_Convincing._**

* * *

**_I want to dance._ **

“Oh God,” Eddie mutters. “Okay – you can take over my limbs, but if you hit someone in the face, I’m outing you and blaming you, consequences be damned.”

 ** _No._** And wow, that was touchy. **_I want to dance with you._**

 _With me?_ Despite the threat, it was just that – and idle threat. He doubts the DJ would continue on the appearance of a 12-foot tall alien on the dance floor. _We can’t._

**_Let me take someone over._ **

Eddie knocks over his glass.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters at the man across from him, and dabs at the spilt water with a napkin. _Are you insane? You can’t take someone over, they’ll freak. And what if you can’t get back to me?_

**_I will always come back to you, Eddie._ **

_But taking someone else over, what if you’re not compatible—_

**_Symbiotes can tell who will be somewhat compatible before we enter the host. How do you think Riot came from Malaysia? That he hopped on every meat suit—_ **

_Okay, shush, shush._

This is a bad idea. Of course it’s a bad idea. But — it’s all in the name of not disappointing him, an end which justifies a wide range of means.

_Alright. One song._

* * *

The girl is black haired and probably a good five years older than him. He was initially a little bemused by someone punching his shoulder, but the greeting, “Hello, my man,” cleared it up a little bit.

The song playing isn’t one that Eddie immediately recognizes – something Mariah Carey, maybe? – which he really doesn’t want to admit to himself that he’s bummed about. Like he really needs a _song_ with Venom.

“This one was a good dancer,” Venom says into his ear. “Let me lead.”

It’ll be weird, watching a girl push him around the dance floor – but this is for Venom, and who really cares, anyway?

So he lets go, and lets them fall into step – some type of waltz, back and back and forward and side to side.

“This is nice,” Venom says, almost into his ear.

“Yeah,” Eddie responds. “But—” He hesitates, but figures he’d want to hear it if the case was reversed, so. “I feel…strange with you gone. Empty.”

“Bereft?”

“Yeah.”

“I too feel…wrong, in ways. I am excited to be back inside you.”

“Wording,” Eddie mutters, feeling his face heat.

They continue their way across the floor, and the second he realizes this is technically _Venom’s_ hand he’s holding, he can feel his palm start to sweat uncontrollably. His fingers clench, slightly, holding on, and he can feel something in him stutter than restart, way too fast.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he responds, licking his lips, slightly. “So do we – do we have to kiss, again? To transfer bodies?” Venom is looking at him, blinking in obvious confusion. Eddie hurries to explain himself. “I mean, that’s what happened last time. And – I mean, you’re supposed to be Venice, right? So, it’d help the – the fake dating story.”

A pause, then, “Of course, Eddie, whatever you wish.”

What’s odd about it is the familiarity. The step closer is the same. The clutch of the head is the same. The way too-far-in-my-throat tongue is the same. He always assumed Anne had been joking with him when she said that Venom had control of the kiss, but – but maybe not.

Venom merges inside, dissolving into his skin like a mist of water, filling him inside and out with warmth and the feeling of _aliveness,_ and by the time he’s come back to himself, the woman is running towards the bathroom, minorly screaming.

“Not that bad a response,” he says, and feels Venom nod within.

He’s perfectly content, warmed – a little embarrassed, maybe, but in a pleasant way, like it always is with love – when Anne strides up to him, hand on her hip.

“Oh, hi Anne.”

“Eddie.” Oh, that doesn’t sound amused. “What was that?”

“Venice came after all!” He fist pumps the air. “We just had a dance and she – she had to go take a leak.”

Anne gives him a look that screams _I am seething with all-consuming ire that you think I am that dumb._ “That was Dan’s Aunt Patricia.”

“Oh.” He shrugs. “I thought it was Venice.”

* * *

That night, he and Venom are curled up on the bed together, watching some movie on HBO.

“You know, you could just come back inside me if you don’t want to be this close.” Eddie snuggles further into the pillows. “I know you usually like your own chair at home.”

 ** _This is fine,_** is the only response he gets, and a black face settling under his chin.

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry,” the TV says.

Eddie snorts. “Bullshit.”

**_Romantic?_ **

“Not romantic.”

**_The genre would disagree with you._ **

“The genre can go up my ass, that’s not real love.”

**_Don’t be cynical. They’re about love._ **

“Being about love doesn’t make them good.”

He can feel Venom’s amusement rise.

**_You complete me, Eddie._ **

Eddie snorts.

**_Mostly I hate how I don’t hate you, not even a little bit, not even at all._ **

“Not even romantic out of context.”

**_I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly._ **

“Okay, you can stop _anytime_ now.”

**_I am also just a symbiote—_ **

“Oh God.”

**_—Floating in front of a boy, asking him to love him._ **

“Dude, I can’t even hear the movie anymore.”

 ** _I want you._** Eddie startles at the abrupt change in tone – softer, calmer, serious. **_I want all of you, forever. You and me, every day._**

“Uh—” his voice cracked, great. He clears his throat. “What’s that one, again?”

 ** _The Notebook._** The trickle of amusement is back.

“Notebook – that reminds me, I should probably look at some of the notes, recently. This trip is getting me behind.”

He pulls his laptop out from his suitcase at the foot of the bed and settles back down.

621 new emails, Jesus _Christ,_ what is this magazine’s readership, anyway? Did he go viral?

**_That one._ **

“Oh, it’s a reply from the _in-romantic-love,_ ” Eddie muses, clicking on it.

> _Mr. Love,_
> 
> _I will try, the letter, suggestion. Read this, and tell me, what you think._
> 
> _My love – my love, I want to ooze_

“Oh no, not ooze,” he mutters.

> _Inside you, fill you, to the brim, with me_

“Oh no.” 

> _Take over, your cells, make, you, eat_

“Alright, okay.” He scrolls to the end of it, hoping to pass over the gross metaphors and cringey poetry, even though Venom flicked him in the head for it, when something catches his eye at the bottom of the screen. 

> _My dear, my dearest, my Eddie._

“Eddie?” he repeats, dumbfounded. He quickly scans the rest of the email, and – oh god.

> _You’re much, better than a rock – my dearest Mr., Brock_

“Eddie _Brock?_ ” he says, in shock. “Oh my GOD, how did my name get out as attached to this?”

**_Eddie._ **

“You don’t understand the urgency of this situation, V!” He gets out of bed and starts to pace, agitation making his hands fly to his hair. “I will never be taken seriously again in reporting if my name is attached to Mr. Love."

**_Eddie, calm down._ **

“And this was a _love_ note, what if I have a stalker? You can’t eat a stalker, Venom, you just can’t—”

**_Eddie._ **

“I need to report this – how do you report this? How can I explain some deranged email with terrible poetry—”

**_Hey!_ **

Eddie shrieks as Venom takes over his feet and rams him straight into a wall, and he flails as he goes down, hitting his head on the bed.

He sits up, abruptly in charge of his own limbs. 

“Jesus, what the hell, Venom? You’re not supposed to hurt me!”

**_You were hurting me!_ **

“What the fuck you on about?” Eddie grumbles, stumbling to a standing position.

**_You made fun of my poetry!_ **

Eddie’s hand stills from where he was rubbing the now-growing lump on his head.

“Your…? You wrote that?”

**_I did research on poetry. Did you not like my modernist attempt?_ **

“Why would you do that?” Eddie says, ignoring that entirely. “Just to mess with me?”

He’s – is he actually hurt over this? The ever-growing hole in his chest seems to say, _yes, dumbass._

**_It was the advice you gave in-romantic-love._ **

His head isn’t working all that fast – in a machine, he’d say the wheels were stuck with honey, but even he can grasp the meaning of that one.

“You want – me? Romantically?”

**_Don’t make this weird, Eddie._ **

A hysterical laugh builds up in Eddie’s throat, which he works hard to contain, only because he feels like Venom would be irrevocably offended by it.

“I don’t think I hold the cards to make this weird, buddy.” The hole in his chest contracts and contracts, bursting into a warm, sunny feeling, butterflies dancing, a happy parade dancing him into smiling, making him want to scuff his shoes into the carpet like a grade-schooler.

“Me, eh? You like me?”

**_That, I thought, should be evident by now._ **

“Well, yeah, but – like that?”

**_Of course. What I feel isn’t in question here. What about you?_ **

“Come on, V, insecurity doesn’t suit you. You know I love you.”

**_But the difference you said existed._ **

“Not for us.”

**_You’re sure? You could be attracted to me?_ **

“Dude, have you _seen_ your tongue?” Eddie answers, completely without thinking. “No problems on my end.” He colors, but he refuses to let himself feel the burn of embarrassment. Venom knows, anyway. “What about you? You’ll be fucking an alien too.”

 ** _True,_** Venom replies. **_But one reason I was a loser is how I - I was always a little more invested in the idea of a foreign host than others._**

Eddie pauses, digesting that. “You telling me you got turned on by the idea of alien-fucking before you met me?”

**_Is that a problem?_ **

Eddie considers it.

“Nope.” A pause. “Hey, can you come out here?”

Nothing, then, slowly, he can feel Venom start to emerge. He floats out in front of Eddie, and Eddie finds himself leaning forward, cupping Venom’s head in his hand.

What a weird life he leads.

“Hey, buddy.”

**_Hello, Eddie._ **

He’s definitely getting better at reading the eye-shape expressions.

This one is hope.

“Hey man. You’re the first alien I ever kissed. I want you to be the last," he admits.

**_I’ll also be the next._ **

“You better be.”

****

**Author's Note:**

> I have no apologies or regrets.


End file.
